<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Beguiling by Whimzlogo</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24062320">Beguiling</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whimzlogo/pseuds/Whimzlogo'>Whimzlogo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Ties [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>World Wrestling Entertainment</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Flashbacks, Gen, Hijinks &amp; Shenanigans, Humor, Kayfabe Compliant, Sentimental, The Shield being soft, Tickle Fights, Tickling, Tooth-Rotting Fluff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 18:53:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,082</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24062320</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whimzlogo/pseuds/Whimzlogo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"Not a <em>thing</em> you do surprises me, Seth."</p><p>—</p><p>*Set some short time after the events of Bethinking. Dean and Seth have an argument. Roman is there to be the backup neither of them realized they needed in order to settle it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dean Ambrose | Jon Moxley &amp; Roman Reigns, Dean Ambrose | Jon Moxley &amp; Roman Reigns &amp; Seth Rollins | Tyler Black, Dean Ambrose | Jon Moxley &amp; Seth Rollins | Tyler Black</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Ties [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1745512</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Beguiling</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>All it took was <em>one time too many</em>.</p><p>This irksome <em>habit</em> Dean was beginning to notice Seth falling into, regarding himself, stemming back as far as only the mere <em>day after</em> the two of them made up with their joined fists and not with their words. (They were working on that second part little by little every day. Actions spoke louder than words anyway, but them talking was also pretty important. Even Dean would admit to that.)</p><p>The match at SummerSlam, the winning of the titles— it all came on really suddenly, considering how short of a time ago it was that Dean couldn't even look Seth's way without gagging.</p><p>They were getting reacquainted. They already <em>were </em>acquainted. Maybe they were learning how to love each other again, as lame as that sounded. <em>Re</em>learning what it was that evoked a response like love to begin with.</p><p>Whatever evoked it, it sure wasn't this stupid fucking <em>habit</em>.</p><p>"I thought so."</p><p>What were they talking about again? Didn't matter. Seth could have been talking to an empty goldfish bowl for all the sense his assumptions made sometimes, and for how little mental depth he predicted the person he was speaking to had.</p><p>"You're saying that too much lately. Stop it," Dean blurted.</p><p>Seth looked up in an instant, the hand holding his phone dropping to align with his hip. "Saying what?"</p><p>"All kinds of... <em>'I had a feeling'</em>," he did a poor imitation of Seth's nasally drawl, making the other man in the equation chuckle. "<em>'I knew you were gonna say that, Ambrose. That's exactly what I was thinking; we're so alike. I like to pretend I've got the forseeing upper hand in this relationship even though'</em> not a <em>thing</em>," he pressed on with his own voice then, hoarse and raspy with conviction, "not a <em>thing</em> you do surprises me, Seth."</p><p>"I... never <em>try </em>to surprise you?" Seth was nonplussed, stepping off the rounded curb they balked at and pocketing his device. "That's- that's right out, man. That's simply not a thing that's on my agenda, ever. What would I gain from doing that?"</p><p>An answer teetered on the tip of Dean's tongue. He stopped short, realizing it would bring fire to a conversation that he never meant to make heated in the first place.</p><p>This was <em>Seth</em>; the best friend he just got back, the brother he never really lost, the wrestling partner he defended just as often as he went on the offensive against and came out a better version of himself on the other side every time, regardless.</p><p>Dean wasn't... <em>angry</em> angry. The angriest he could possibly <em>be</em>-angry. It was just a minor annoyance.</p><p>But was Seth really under the impression that he'd never changed? Stuck on a betrayal that hit so close to home that it screwed his entire psyche up? ... Maybe "relearning" wasn't the right word after all, since they were different people now. It seemed as though <em>Seth</em> thought it was the right word, just like the general public thought "lunatic" was the right word.</p><p>"I'm an unpredictable piece o' work," he bit out, covering up the fleeting blanking he just did. "That's the entire point. You never know what I'm gonna do next."</p><p>"<em>Most people </em>never know what you're gonna do next," Seth corrected him. "But I know, 'cause I know you. There's nothing wrong with that. We're partners. Having a guy around who can successfully predict your next move and thereby tout synchronization sure beats getting an accidental forearm to the face."</p><p>"I'd rather take the forearm." Dean's nod was solemn.</p><p>"Pshh." Seth gave him a hard look, lips faintly parted as he glared incredulously at him; a look Dean was all too familiar with. "You're a freakin' crazy, man."</p><p>The irritating moniker being shoved in his face for the umpteenth time that week didn't make his blood boil as much as it usually did.</p><p>"Obviously not," he fired back, spreading his arms, "since I'm clearly so easy to read."</p><p>"Yeah, you <em>are</em>," sneered Seth. "Can't surprise me, Dean. It'd be a real treat to see you try." He stopped, pupils flitting down as if another thought had only just then occurred to him. (Dean would have laughed at the look if he wasn't trying to keep his game face on.) "And, <em>what</em>, you said there's 'not a thing' I can do to surprise you, either?"</p><p>"Oh." Dean peered out from under lowered eyelids, wholly unimpressed. "So you acknowledge that it's not the most flattering thing to be told, yet it's okay to saddle Deano with it, 'cause at least then it's not you."</p><p>"No." Seth looked borderline alarmed by that accusation before his face hardened again. "It sounds, to me, like a <em>challenge</em>."</p><p>"Puh. Hell yeah, man. Anyplace. Pick a ring-"</p><p>"No, no no. Not in the ring."</p><p>"Of course not." Dean vaguely wondered if his reoccurring disappointment was a thing that could be observed from a mere listen to the sea of gravel that was his voice. Probably not.</p><p>"Yeah." Seth was smiling now. Well, kind of. Kind of not, also. Dean wouldn't have called himself a person who knew the look of a guy who was about to commit murder, but he couldn't help but think Seth looked that way now. "Let's both remember we had this talk, all right?"</p><p>"I'll try not to get my brains... friggin'... <em>pulverized </em>where I can help it," Dean said. Seth clucked a laugh.</p><p>"Best of luck to you, you <em>nerd</em>."</p><p>...That was it, basically. There would be no civil way of going about this now.</p><p>After physically restraining himself from tackling Seth into the grass and mercilessly whaling on him (Seth would have been expecting that), Dean led the charge across the circular driveway, back into the hotel they were staying in. Separately, but they were aiming for the same room now.</p><p>He'd gone out to lunch with Renee, and Seth went the opposite way to hit the gym by himself. They were making an immediate beeline for Roman's room now that they were back. They left their titles and two bags worth of stuff in there, recognizing it as an excuse to come back for it later and overstay their welcome, and just generally hang out. The freedom to do so left Dean feeling lighter than air.</p><p>When they knocked at his door, his answer was belated, and he offered them both a small smile, but nothing too full. Maybe Dean was still stewing, because Seth caught onto Roman's not-entirely-uncharacteristic brooding spell a lot faster than he did. Or took legitimate issue with it, anyway.</p><p>Dean was minding his own damn business, giving Roman his space like any good friend would as he contemplated less <em>digital</em> ways of breaking him away from needing it (again: like any good friend would), when Seth breezed past and caught him off guard by dropping his phone into his lap. It was opened up to Spotify.</p><p>"Put somethin' on that'll help Roman focus," he suggested. Dean looked up at him absently.</p><p>"I only know words that help Roman focus," he said.</p><p>"Something you'd listen to before you tear through the curtain. That kind of thing."</p><p>
  <em>Huh huh huh. Focus. What makes me do that? ... Better yet, what makes me do the opposite?</em>
</p><p>Roman needed something to snap him out of his funk anyway; <em>not</em> push him even deeper into his own head. (If he wanted to be trapped in there, he wouldn't have invited them over.)</p><p>Dean needed to hit at least three different birds with a single stone here.</p><p>He gnashed his teeth when his eyes fell upon a certain song title. He set the volume high and let the guitar riffs blare, causing Seth to jump from the unexpected familiarity of it. Roman, indeed, snapped out of whatever thought track he was experiencing and turned around with a brandished fist.</p><p>
  <em>"Evolution is a mystery</em>
</p><p>
  <em>full of change that no one sees!"</em>
</p><p>"Really." Seth was visibly displeased by this choice.</p><p>"What?" Dean's eyes flitted up to meet his.</p><p>"You hate this song. I hate this song," Seth stated, gesturing broadly to himself on that second sentence. "Roman... has never given me his opinion on this song, but I'm almost positive he hates it, too. Right, Roman?"</p><p>Roman stiffened, eyes flying open wide. Dean laughed, endeared to the older man's willingness to participate in their antics even for all that was on his mind.</p><p>
  <em>"I see the line in the sand</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Time to find out who I am</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Looking back to see where I stand</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Evolution! ... Evolution!"</em>
</p><p>"Dude," Seth said, perturbed.</p><p>"Your hatred must be the most irrational thing on the planet," Dean maintained. "This song reminds me of nothing but happy things. Camaraderie, the feeling of multiple chair shots to the back..." He glazed over just thinking about it. "Letting go of grudges, you know, most importantly."</p><p>Honest, but unwelcome. <em>N</em><em>ot</em> his plan to state things so frankly. <em>Hint</em> at them, sure, but the whole truth sorta just bled out instead.</p><p>He watched Seth's brows unfurrow as he processed the words, clearly having not expected to hear them, but Dean didn't feel quite as good about calling it a scored point this time.</p><p>He paused the song. The room filled back up with unsettled silence.</p><p>Their youngest ran a weary hand over his hairline after thinking it over. He turned away— dismissively, almost, if not for the odd glint in his eyes conveying deeper thought. "I'm gonna shower."</p><p>"Whew. <em>Really </em>wasn't expectin' that," Dean teased.</p><p>"We're on timeout now," Seth seethed, pointing warningly at him. He grabbed the fresh clothes he piled on the mattress for just such use and disappeared into the bathroom.</p><p>Roman stared at the closed door a moment. He swallowed a lump Dean only realized was there after it was gone, moving on to retrieving the duffel with their belts in it.</p><p>"Here-"</p><p>"Leave 'em there," Dean interrupted him. He lied back on the bed. "I doubt we're gonna be scarce for a while, unless you want us gone."</p><p>"No, it's fine. I like having you here. Both of you." Roman crossed his arms and stared down at the bag; the rally red leather and shiny, silver plating poking out, half of the emblazoned S.R. of Seth's trademark emblem showing in the dulling window light. "I didn't set finger on 'em. Kind of just opened it up and looked at 'em for a while."</p><p>"You could've touched 'em," Dean said, cracking a smile. "We wouldn't have minded, Ro. Especially not if you buffed 'em for us."</p><p>Roman was silent, locked in that sad, drawn-in pose.</p><p>"Kidding. I'm <em>kidding</em>, man."</p><p>"No, I know you were." The Samoan tilted his head down, rubbing at the corner of his eye with his index. He didn't seem to know what to do with his hands anymore.</p><p>"You'll get back there, my friend," Dean encouraged.</p><p>"I already <em>was</em> there. I should be able to get there again. <em>Should've</em>. It should've been easy." He turned with a sharpness and sauntered past the bed far slower, passing Dean on the way to the coffee table, which he sat down at.</p><p>They waited in silence. Probably for about ten minutes or more, just listening to Seth's shower run in the other room. It was likely five minutes <em>after that </em>when Roman, newly on his feet once again and meandering around, spoke:</p><p>"Zigged when I should've zagged, y'know?"</p><p>Dean smirked under the forearms he covered his eyes with, taking humor from the phrasing. "Easy there, Dolph."</p><p>Roman paced by again, but this time was different. He picked Dean's legs up by the ankles very suddenly; coiled strong arms around his calves and locked his shins in against his sides, facing him. The force of the sudden tug yanked Dean down the mattress a few inches, sliding on his back. He expected to be pulled all the way off to the floor, but that never happened.</p><p>It went down so fast, it efficiently <em>startled</em> him. Now <em>that</em> said something.</p><p>"Why'd you stop?" he asked, supporting his upper half using his elbows. It wasn't an uncomfortable position <em>or</em> location by any means, and Roman's body and arm crooks were a <em>sleep-lulling</em> sort of warm. Warm, snuggly compression. Dean couldn't complain.</p><p>He, however, would: "Finish the job, man."</p><p>"Already have," Roman said, as smooth as could be. If this was the way he wanted to get his mind off things for awhile, Dean was completely down with it.</p><p>"Simple headlocks aren't overrated, all right?" he grunted, fidgeting in his confusion. "Is this meant to accomplish anything? I think not."</p><p>"I think it is." Roman barely looked smug. He wrenched back on the legs for emphasis, driving his toes into the base of the bed near the floor to showcase his intentions of holding firm. "The most you can do with your hands right now is take swipes at me, grab me by the shirt ... On top of that, I'm rooting you here. You can't get off your ass."</p><p>"How terrifying. Are you gonna start speaking backwards next?"</p><p>As little as Dean wanted to admit it, the unrelenting pressure holding his legs in place <em>was </em>frustrating. In a way he couldn't really describe, albeit.</p><p>He spotted Seth exiting the bathroom in a pair of boxers and a band t-shirt and sighed, grateful for the distraction. "Major props for the ambush, Roman. You really blindsided me."</p><p>Seth cast a squint in their direction. Roman made an inquiring face.</p><p>"<b>Surprised</b> me, you might even say," Dean tacked on shamelessly.</p><p>"I'm glad," Roman said, understandably confused, himself, now. "That was kinda what was intended. Are you okay?"</p><p>"Some people aren't so good at that," Dean went on, ignoring the question. "Not you, though. You're not some glass of bland, transparent water I can see right through, like a lot of other people I know are." He was plain-out lying now. Seth was <em>easily</em> just as miffed as Dean wanted him to be, though, so all was well.</p><p>At least, he thought all was well. He watched, unconcerned, as his younger tag partner stalked up to the bed— scratch that, stalked up to <em>Roman</em>. Took up position right behind him, and hitched his head back as if looking down at something.</p><p>"Truly, I <em>never </em>would have guessed I'd've been gifted this so early on." Reigns blinked and twisted his head around as well as he could to the sound of Rollins' obviously very stupid, insufferable voice (that Dean absolutely could not <em>stand</em>, factually) behind him, still not letting go of the legs stuffed between his flanks and inner arms. "I'd like to take a second to thank everyone who attributed to getting me to this point. Roman Reigns, to name one."</p><p>"Wha, why?" the man in question asked. "What'd I do?"</p><p>"You're still doing it," was the bright response Seth came back with.</p><p>There was no briefing. Dean wasn't warned. He was just instantaneously treated to diabolical fingers raking over the soles of his immobile feet that were sticking out behind Roman, caught through his arms. Attacking with such a hardness of pressure that the motion generated a resolve-weakening <em>scratchy scratchy </em>sound against the attenuated sock cotton.</p><p>It had room to get even <em>more</em> unbearable, because in the span of a single blink of his eyes, the socks were worked off, and Seth resumed on bare skin.</p><p>Dean's ankles—and by extension his shins—jerked and rotated in Roman's unwavering grasp. The sharp flinch moved Roman himself, who quirked a knowing brow and tightened his hold, making it even snugger. Even harder to escape from. Dean would have snapped halfheartedly at him to <em>please </em><em>don't cut off my blood circulation, thanks </em>if he hadn't already twisted over onto his left side as far as his trapped legs would allow, damming undignified noises behind his dead giveaway grin.</p><p>"No," he said through his teeth.</p><p>"'Fraid so," Seth taunted.</p><p>And that was that. If Dean tried to talk anymore, he would laugh. He knew that. He knew his own body fairly well.</p><p>His feet weren't terrible with this sort of thing, but they also weren't immune. At the very least, they weren't gratingly shrieking, scratch-and-claw to get away, 'Holy mother of <em>fuck</em>, if you don't stop you're going to kill me'-levels of <em>terrible</em>,like, say, <em>Seth's</em>, for example.</p><p>Dean only ever caught a bit of a smiling bug from it. No big deal, usually. The offending tickle got kicked away, and it was never enough to make him laugh. Chuckle, maybe. That was it.</p><p>Kicking <em>this</em> away was kind of hard when his legs were being held secure. Staving off bare minimum chuckles was <em>kind of hard</em> when Seth was running his cool fingers over the sensitive edges of both feet, occasionally slipping them under to scritch and scrawl across the bottoms some more. Dean <em>yiped!</em> and sat bolt upright, shoulders shaking and cheeks hurting, winding a fist and bracing it against Roman's body to cope.</p><p>"I've actually never done it for this long before," Rollins spoke up, sounding considerably more like himself now; giddy. In a funny, non-annoying way. The helpless grin on Dean's face became a <em>smidge</em> more genuine at hearing it. Only a smidge. "He's squirmy as hell back here. <em>Don't</em> tell me he's trying not to laugh still? God forbid it's in front'a us."</p><p>"Especially in front'a us— are you kidding?" Roman answered, mid-titter in his own right as he playfully grinned at the very clearly <em>abused </em>man on the mattress in front of him, who was still trying exceedingly hard to avoid making eye contact with either of them. "Keep going like that; offering some much-needed relief right now."</p><p>Dean flopped over backwards and rolled again, swearing into the bed sheet and digging his fingers into it for grips, making craters. He huffed and then fell into rough, stilted laughter when Seth scribbled just above his heels and lingered there a bit too long.</p><p>"Okaaa<em>hahay</em>! I give!" he growled around the mirth, frantic.</p><p>"Well come to think of it, I don't think you 'giving' is what's gonna make it stop this time," Seth said, infuriating in his wiliness. "Not unless you're giving the win to me. In essence: admitting you <em>weren't expecting me</em> to target your feet, because I barely ever do. Would you even say me doing that <b>surprised</b> you?"</p><p>"Oh. Oh, I see." Roman hung his head in subtle disappointment, lips pulling at the corners in spite of it. He <em>still </em>held Dean's legs, anyway; enabling Seth to continue. "You're both just being stupid. I should've known."</p><p>"'Scuse me," snorted Dean, rolling onto his back again, "but I'd actually rather <em>never </em>do that, for 's'long as I live-vh<em>AHA</em>! Letgoletgo!"</p><p>"He really likes this, I think," Seth commented, honing in on just one foot and scratching haphazardly around the sides of it, where the skin was thinnest. Roman even tried slipping a hand back to join the cause, but could only reach Dean's Achilles tendon with it, fingertips just barely grazing.</p><p>So Dean had to put up with that for a bit.</p><p>He wondered, briefly, if this was revenge for what he started in that locker room a few nights ago. But then, no, Seth <em>already</em> got him back for that (that same night, in fact), and besides: revenge was never necessary to begin with, as he'd had a point to make. About how his tag partner was like no one else, about how he was a fighting machine... (Tickling him had been a perfectly reasonable means of demonstrating that point.)</p><p>"He's gonna get me back... <em>tenfold </em>after this," Seth said, very, very wisely, because that was the <em>truth</em>. "I appreciate you lettin' me have this, Big Man. This boy's gonna—"</p><p>Roman's chuff cut in on him.</p><p>"Nah. Maybe I should butt out, actually. I'm full of surprises today, apparently." He let Dean's legs go, dropping them to the soft mattress.</p><p>It was the first of <em>many </em>things he did.</p><p>Seth backed off with a scoff, viewing the interruption as a clear affront, probably. Dean didn't even get the chance to snap a sarcastic, "Thank you," at their eldest brother.</p><p>...not counting on Roman, aforementioned "eldest", all at once <em>lunging </em>for him.</p><p>The older vaulted over the end of the bed and Dean's knees, cloaking him at the end of his pounce. Dean got out little more than a half-giggled, "Son of a-!" before Roman struck; forcefully squeezing up his sides, worming under his arms, catching on every ticklish spot therein, <em>full-bore</em>, before he could hope to get up off his back or guard his weakness.</p><p>Dean was lost. He wriggled and pushed and convulsed, boxed in by his old stablemate's knees, unable to squirm very far. He ached from laughing, and probably also from other stuff. <em>Completely</em> from other stuff. But this wound was worth rubbing salt in, in a manner of speaking.</p><p>"Treeeaasoon!" he yowled, forcing down his elbows to protect himself from the one thing he couldn't help but react to in <em>this case</em>; wouldn't react to at all if the person afflicting him with it wasn't who he would deem completely trustable. His boys undoubtedly were... so, in a way, he <em>was</em> cackling like a bit of a lunatic. Sure. Why not?</p><p>Roman laughed dopily. A blessed sound, even if it was directed solely at Dean's plight. And honestly <em>nothing</em>, in that moment, was wrong. Nothing.</p><p>"...All right, 'er'right, I'm pacified," his assailant said, maybe even a little too soon, cutting the attack short and rolling off him. Leaving him frazzled. "Seth, if you wanna get a leg up, I'd suggest getting in here <em>right now</em>."</p><p>The advisement all on its own got another silly, quavering laugh to tumble out of Dean's mouth, this time from anticipation; a <em>not ready not ready waitwaitwait </em>kind of laugh<em>. </em>However, when Seth literally leaped to take Roman's place, Dean actually <em>was</em> ready, successfully rolling out of dodge.</p><p>He twisted around. Fought back. Until they were a tangle of limbs and cussing and he was making Seth lose it just as hard as Seth was making him lose it; persistent, searching fingers grazing a hip bone or an inner bicep, or drilling into the back of a knee.</p><p>It wasn't helpful to let a mind wander during a fight, Dean knew. His drifted off to their game in that inner city arena locker room without him fully realizing it at first. Preferably the part where Seth had him pinned.</p><p><em>"This is a pretty bad spot, isn't it?"</em> the younger man—damn bane of Dean's entire friggin' existence more often than he wasn't—had asked, tweaking all over his ribs in no specific pattern, with erratic little breaks of varying length in between to make Dean jump every time they would resume. The tickle-free lulls never put a halt on the laughter. <em>"I mean, I think</em> <em>the soft spots are pretty self-explanatory,</em><em>" </em>a playful dig at his left flank, <em>"but the ribs I can't quite figure. Are they ultra sensitive so they can feel a punch comin' before</em> <em>it connects?</em> <em>You got, like, ticklish feelers all over here? Can you feel this?"</em></p><p>He started rubbing his knuckles into them, not nearly enough to bruise but 110% enough to tickle, and merely grinning and pushing the shoulder Dean lifted to curl his body around the hand back down to the floor, repinning him.</p><p><em>"C'mooon, dude, there's gotta be a tactical reason for an area like this being so </em>delicate<em>! Maybe I'll just poke 'n prod around like I'm tryin'na figure that out, even though it'll obviously be torture for you!"</em></p><p>Dean's face had warmed as the light tickle attack and goofily teasy commentary went on—and the hand he'd freed from Seth's clutch was covering it up promptly, put there initially to scrub away the mirthful tears but lingering for one reason or another.</p><p>It hadn't really been the words <em>themselves</em>, he didn't think, that threw him off-kilter and even made him go a little pink in the face. Seth knew what to say and what not to say to him; had years of experience with trial and error in speaking to him (didn't mean he <em>still </em>didn't make mistakes, but Dean knew that they were just that: mistakes).</p><p>The sudden bashfulness had felt more to him like his body's way of reacting to the alarming information that this was <em>Seth</em>he was lying down for; the person he had grown used to putting his guard up around like second nature. Cunning, untrustworthy Seth Rollins, who, up until the dawn of their partnership, had taken every opportunity presented to him to <em>kick </em>Dean while he was down, and not... <em>this </em>nostalgia trip. So gooey. So <em>disarming</em>.</p><p>Unused to seeing Seth in such a light again (nice and grinning and not trying to hurt him), up close and personal, and coming to the realization that he <em>missed</em> <em>him</em>, so much.</p><p>Unused to letting Seth see <em>him </em>in such a light again (barely fighting it, too caught up in the sheer joy and humor of it to keep his eyes open, laugh lines and a certain softness so few people saw in him he couldn't even count their numbers past four on his fingers).</p><p>Unused to the unnatural action of sticking his neck out like that again, feeling something quite like embarrassment—<em>awkwardness</em>—for doing what had nearly felt like the wrong thing at the time. To trust Seth again was to give him the power to inflict damage again, that would no doubt be <em>irreparable</em> a second go-around. Nerves and self-consciousness about lowering his defenses and <em>keeping them </em>lowered, even if he'd started it knowing full well he would probably get a taste of his own medicine in a matter of minutes (and kind of being completely okay with that).</p><p>Seth, for his part, never mentioned it. Even for how glaring it probably was. Knowing how flustered Dean could get and not overdoing it. Never letting him get near the brink of discomfort... Not something Dean ever took for granted.</p><p>Back in the present, he had Seth's shoulders down.</p><p>He was <em>right there</em>. Right under his hands.</p><p>This all-new game of theirs was coming to a close, but Dean would be damned if he didn't get the final word. The final surprise to shut down all surprises. He <em>had to, HAD TO, had</em>-</p><p>He flew over Seth. Floundered for a moment; bracing his left hand on the mattress beside his partner's waist while his right hand grabbed a fistful of said partner's shirt hem, rucking it up to his sternum. All the rest was pure wild impulse. He went a little feral, honestly.</p><p>"What're-ahaHAHAA!" Seth absolutely, positively seized <em>up</em>. His laughy shrill nearly drowned out the loud, wet raspberry Dean released onto his bare stomach, near his navel.</p><p>Dean instantly got hands pushing at his chest, scrabbling at the neck hole of his shirt. His brother was in hysterics, which was always a good thing. Seth's back was arched off the bed, abdominal muscles fluttering every time a breath was pushed onto his stubbled, scarred skin. Kinda dewy and ridden with goosebumps, now.</p><p>Dean lifted his lips a fraction of an inch to relocate and then swiftly closed in again, blowing another ticklish current onto the younger man's side. Shouldering the faint, bitter taste of washed-away soap that was now in his mouth.</p><p>"HEHeh hah Dean— just— I just bathed," Seth gasped, curling over to protect that side. He exhaled and breathed another big breath in, letting loose tightly-wound laughter when Dean cheekily faked him out by diving down again and feathering at his ribs with his hair. Seth's hands rushed to the soft curls, becoming entangled. "'Kayokay! I'm pleading mercy!"</p><p>"Mercy-shmercy, bitch. Tell me I win," Dean bore down, monotonous.</p><p>"Fuck no," Rollins squeaked the words. He shook soon after, unable to put a lid on the chortling. Dean laughed mockingly back.</p><p>"Thought your ribs weren't delicate, Seth," he goaded, in light of Seth not telling him what he wanted to hear. He sat up off the one supporting hand to press his weight into his knees, reaching down and skittering fingers in a steady climb up the smooth sides of his partner's chest, stopping just short of his armpits. "Or neck. How 'bout let's try out your neck?" The hands darted again, too quick to catch. They were already hovering around that area, pushing Seth's hair out of the way.</p><p>"Dean!" Rollins yapped. "No no, you've- you've got a beard now. That's not-"</p><p>"Good eye, good eye. It'd be rude of me to not let you feel it. Every hair." He hunkered back down. Seth scrunched his shoulders and snickered.</p><p>"Eheh heheh stop! Stop, man. Fuckin'... <em>shit</em>. You win." He never stopped smiling. That left Dean with little else to do but smile gently back. He pulled away and patiently waited for his best friend, his other half to get his bearings.</p><p>Roman sat down on the mattress edge as the fight cloud dissipated for real, shaking his head in unserious annoyance. His broad smirk gave him away. "How <em>bored </em>do you have to be, coming up with these stupid reasons for fighting each other?"</p><p>"Force of habit. My ties to this guy get stronger the harder we clash, platinum or no platinum." Dean's hand found the base of Rollins' neck as he spoke, softly squeezing at the warm junction between it and his shoulder. His boy, who he was bound by gold to, and who was currently pulling the rucked shirt back down, trying (failing) to erase the affected smile from his face.</p><p>Dean could have a talk with him later about the guy he was <em>now</em> not being the same hapless, unkempt man bereft of a plan from three years ago that everyone was still so hung up on. He was starting to trust that Seth would come to recognize that all on his own, actually.</p><p>He decided that someone who was purposefully, actively conscious of all his tells, so long as that someone understood the concept of and <em>respected</em> evolution, made for a fine friend.</p><p><em>A lifelong one</em><em>,</em> Dean thought, catching the retaliatory fist Seth threw at his shoulder. He used it as leverage to pull the younger in, puckering his lips and pressing them to the still-damp hair on his best compadre's head.</p><p>"Dweeb," he muffled into it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The lyrics used in this are, of course, from Motörhead's "Line in the Sand", Evolution's entrance theme. I'm not claiming with confidence that the Shield boys <em>actually</em> hate it. Highly unlikely, IMO, considering how much of an eargasm it is. I wrote under the assumption that it brought back bad memories for Seth, and probably for Dean and Roman as well (or so Seth thought).</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>